Closing the Door to the Past
by TorontoBatFan
Summary: In June of 1984, Owen and Abby are forced to return to Los Alamos when a tragic events severs the final ties Owen had with his old life. The rating is "T" for now. That may change.
1. Chapter 1

_Greetings fellow _Let Me In_ fans. It's been awhile since I've done a multi-chapter Owen and Abby story, so I thought it was time I got one up again._

_I've alluded to the events in this story is some of my other fics. So, this tells of the actual events._

_Oh, I know that I gave Owen's mother the name Yvonne in an earlier fic. Well, that was written before I had the DVD to try and see the name on her driver's license. LOL So, consider this something that I'll retcon if I ever get the chance._

_As I've said before...Reviews make me update faster. :-D_

_And awayyyy we go. :-)_

_P.S. Please consider this chapter to be the prologue._

* * *

Los Alamos, New Mexico; June 17th, 1984

The woman sat at the picnic table by her car, flipping through the magazine yet again. She'd sworn she wasn't going to look at it anymore, but found she couldn't help herself.

The magazine was a _Newsweek_ commemorative issue highlighting the just passed 40th Anniversary of D-Day in Normandy. Inside were pictures showing events such as Ronald Reagan giving his speech where he praised the men who had scaled the cliffs at Pointe-Du-Hoc. However, it was the pictures of the assembled veterans that had caught her eye.

One picture, showing a group of veterans from the 82nd Airborne Division was her father; her father that she hadn't seen in nine years now. He looked very much the same. He still had the lean, strong build she remembered that a lifetime of being a rancher had given him. She noted that he even still had all of his hair and with very little grey in it as well.

She shook her head dismissively and took another drink from her bottle of orange juice, savouring the effect of the immense amount of vodka she'd added into it when she'd gone to use the ladies room. Her father…Why should she wasted time thinking about him? He'd made his choice in 1975. He'd chosen to support her sodomite brother who'd forsaken his Christian marriage to a woman in order to live with a man in the Gomorra by ocean that people called San Francisco. She'd made her choice then as well. She'd severed all ties with both her father and her brother nine years ago. She'd not seen or spoken to either since.

She looked at the picture again, feeling anger rise in her. The hypocrite, she thought: being in the presence of a great man like Ronald Reagan –a man who knew of the evils in the world- when her father had been a lifelong Democrat. Looking at her father's picture again, she took another great gulp of her vodka-laden orange juice. She forced herself to admit that what truly bothered her about seeing such a recent image of her father again was noting how much of her first-born son she could see in him; her son Owen, who she'd not seen in over a year.

It was a weird coincidence. Her father had not tried to contact her in years. However, a week or so after Owen disappeared he'd attempted to call her. As soon as she'd heard his voice, she'd hung up. A letter sent soon afterwards was sent back unopened. She even refused to accept a registered letter. She knew she was being tested. Her son had disappeared and she was being tested by God. If she'd allowed herself to talk to her father again, she'd be giving in to the temptations of Satan and fail the test by compromising on her beliefs. Instead, she'd stayed strong and been rewarded.

Right afterwards, she and her estranged husband began to talk again. Soon enough, she'd seen that her reward had come. The two of them renewed their marital vows at the very same church that had put on this Father's Day picnic. By June, she learned she was pregnant, completely validating her earlier actions. She was being given a new child to replace the one who was taken.

John, her husband, had been overjoyed at the pregnancy…even if he hadn't agreed with her decision to try and forget everything that had happened before…including pondering Owen's fate. He'd been attentive to her during her pregnancy and even prevailed on her to stop drinking. Well, she'd stopped during the pregnancy. Since Johnny's birth in March, she found that vodka was a most satisfactory beverage. It could be mixed easily with anything and had no odour. It was her little secret. So far as John knew, she was still on the wagon. The vodka was what she turned to when she remembered Owen. It helped her soothe her memories. John had suggested they go for some psychological counseling to try and achieve some closure. She'd scoffed at that. Her pastor said that psychologists were all liberal atheists who wanted to turn people away from God. It was her pastor that advised her to close Owen off in her mind. He'd told her that if Owen had been abducted by a satanic cult –as the police had speculated if he was still alive- then he'd joined with them. He'd forsaken his God to preserve his life and thus forfeited his soul. So, she could consider him like her father and brother and simply close herself off to him. Her pastor –who was regarded at the most fire and brimstone preacher she'd ever heard…a far cry from the Romanism she been raised in- had been most adamant about that. After Johnny's birth, she found that the vodka helped both with the stress of post-partum depression and blotting Owen's face from her mind. Her reverie was interrupted by her husband's approach as he returned from the men's room.

John Lindquist saw his wife sitting by their car, flipping through the magazine. He'd seen the picture of his father-in-law in it and knew that was what was bothering her. He could also see Owen in the man. John sighed forlornly…Owen. John had never agreed with how his wife was coping with the disappearance of their older son. John had been alternately distraught, guilt-ridden and mad with grief at the time. He'd felt that if had had still been with them Owen might never have been at the pool that night. As well, he'd refused to give up hope that Owen was still alive somewhere. He never voiced those opinions in front of Samantha though. She never reacted well to that. She also never agreed to his suggestions of seeking professional help to deal with everything. According to her, the pastor knew best. Well. John didn't agree with that either. So far as he was concerned, the pastor was a man who could scream from the pulpit about sin but seemed to have forgotten all about Christian charity or compassion. It was another subject he didn't' dare broach around his wife though.

Right now, they were back together and had a new baby to look after and…His thoughts were interrupted by the throbbing ache in his right arm. John reached into his pocket with his left hand and pulled out a tin box of Tylenol as he shifted his plastered right arm in its sling. Just over a week ago, he'd taken a fall at work and badly broken his right arm, resulting in the heavy plaster cast he now wore. A result of the accident was that Samantha had to do all the driving for them, as he simply couldn't hope to drive their manual transmission vehicle with his right arm incapacitated.

"Is he still asleep, honey?" John asked as he looked into the back seat of the car. Nestled in a car seat was Johnny, now three months old and clearly tired out from the afternoon's excursion.

"He's sleeping soundly. I just hope we can get him home that way." Samantha replied as the two got into the front seat. John didn't notice that she missed the ignition slot with the key the first time she tried to insert it. She got it in a second time and the car roared to life. She shifted into drive and headed out of the local park to begin the trip home.

The park was located in the mountains surrounding the city, and as Samantha pulled onto the main road, she immediately had to take a sharp turn. As she took the turn –more sharply than normal- the vehicle jostled rather severely. John looked around into the back seat to make sure their baby was undisturbed. So far, so good, he thought. As he turned forward again, he noticed two things immediately….They had accelerated to over 20 mph over the posted speed limit and –worst of all- they'd drifted over into the lane for oncoming traffic. In the driver's seat, Samantha was squinting into the afternoon sun and the glare it was causing as she continued to press on the accelerator, oblivious to being on the wrong side of the road.

"Get back over…!" John began to scream in terror.

His never finished the sentence as a transport truck came round the blind turn straight at them, the horrified driver hitting his brakes and horn at the same time as he realized it was far too late to avoid the collision.


	2. Chapter 2

_Greetings dear readers. Here's the next installment of "Closing the Door to the Past". _

_I made the chapter a little shorter than usual, in order to get it written and posted the same day. Hopefully that means I'll be able to update more often if I go by that format._

_Again, this isn't a big action chapter. It's more dialogue and reactions to news. However, it was most necessary to do so. (Of course, this isn't a huge action story.)_

_That big review box at the bottom of the page just LOVES to be written in. :-D_

_And awayyyy we go. :-)_

* * *

Monday, June 18th, 1984

Oscar Alfredson stood up from his kitchen table and carried his lunch dishes over to the sink. As he did so, he mentally went over the chores that had to be done that afternoon. Overall, there wasn't a lot to do. He'd gotten a lot done during the morning and –as usual- a very large amount of work had been done during the night. It had become routine for Oscar to compile a list of tasks for Owen and Abby to do during the hours of darkness and he would invariably awaken in the morning to find that everything had been done. As a result, his own workload had been greatly reduced.

It was almost, he thought, like he was allowing himself to get lazy. Owen and Abby, though, had made it clear that it was their contribution to keeping the place up, as well as their way of paying back his allowing them to stay here in the first place the previous March. That was rather a lucky happenstance for him, Oscar thought. When they had shown up at his door on that cold, wet night in 1983, he had been feeling worn out from a busy lambing season, as well as the general grind of decades of working his sheep ranch. He'd begun to resign himself that he would need to start hiring workers to assist him. However, the arrival of Abby –whose strength allowed her to do what it would take over a dozen men to accomplish- curtailed that. And now Owen was…turned…he could do just as much. As a result, Oscar found he had much less to do during the day.

That was of course, a great help to him. It had allowed him to leave for France, for a week, at the beginning of the month without any worries that work would not get done while he was away. He'd initially thought of cancelling his trip, but his grandchildren had reminded him that he'd been planning it for almost five years. So, he'd gone with other American veterans to France for the 40th anniversary of D-Day.

Oscar washed up his lunch dishes, having greatly enjoyed the leftovers from his treat from the previous night. (Owen and Abby had made a reservation and prepaid a meal for him at a steak house in Missoula. The previous morning he'd gotten a call from the restaurant informing him of the fact that it was his grandchildren's Father's Day present.) He checked his watch and saw that it was at least a half-hour before he had to go back to his few remaining chores. He walked into the living room and turned on his grandchildren's ColecoVision. (It was his own little secret that he'd gotten into the habit of playing Donkey Kong as a way of relaxing.)

Oscar had just grabbed a hammer to begin smashing barrels on the screen when he heard a car pull up to the house. He shut down the game and television set and went to the window to look out. When he saw Bill Gillespie getting out of his police car, he wasn't unduly surprised or concerned. Bill was apt to drop in if some official matter brought him out in the ranch's vicinity, and the two old friends would have a cup of coffee together. (As nobody else knew of Owen and Abby's presence, everyone presumed that Oscar had nobody to talk to on a regular basis and thus needed more human contact. That, of course, was only true during daylight hours.)

"Hi Bill" Oscar greeted the police chief from Cold Creek.

"Hi Oscar" Bill replied in a restrained voice from a face that was wrought with stress.

"Come on in." Oscar said, gesturing for Bill to enter the house.

"Thanks" Bill acknowledged. The lawman's mind was racing. He dreaded the news he had to deliver. He had, of course, done this more times than he could count during both his ten years as the chief in Cold Creek, and the twenty preceding years on the Montana Highway Patrol. However, that didn't make the task any less difficult. And this was one of his best friends that he was delivering it to. He tried to find something to say that would delay the inevitable a moment. He looked out the window.

"You got the wall back up." Bill said as he referred to a heavy stone wall that had come down in a bad storm the previous week.

"Yeah, it's all fixed now." Oscar replied.

Bill nodded, in reply. The news that brought him here prevented him from being curious that as of Saturday, when he'd come over for a few hours of fly fishing at the river than ran through Oscar's property, the wall had been down. If he hadn't been so preoccupied, he might have been amazed at how it had been thoroughly rebuilt, with heavy stones put back seemingly overnight. He took a deep breath. He was a policeman and he had a job to do. He had to get this over with.

"Oscar…I think you'd better sit down."

"Why?"

"I came out here, because I have something I have to tell you."

"What?" Oscar asked, as he felt his pulse start to race with anxiety.

"I got a call this morning from Los Alamos."

"Los Alamos?" Oscar repeated. His first thoughts were to do with Owen. He wondered if there had been some "break" in the case of his disappearance from there the previous spring. Of course, that wouldn't explain why Bill was coming here like that. Oscar's connection to the events in Los Alamos was not generally known in the local community, due to his daughter's severing all ties with him in 1975.

"Yes"

"What's wrong?"

"It's about your daughter, Samantha." Bill said as he took another breath. "Oscar, I am so sorry to have to tell you this, but she and her husband were killed in a car accident down in Los Alamos yesterday evening."

Oscar sat down heavily into a kitchen chair, his normally strong legs having turned to mush beneath him it felt like. "What…" was all he could manage to say. But his face gave away that he wanted to know more. Bill complied.

"It seems that Samantha and her husband had been at some sort of church picnic yesterday. They were driving home and apparently crossed over the median line on the road, right into some oncoming traffic."

"How could that happen?"

"Oscar, you…"

"Bill, I have to know." Oscar said in a tight voice.

"Alright" Bill sighed. "There were two others cars behind them that saw what happened and the occupants gave witness statements. They all said the same thing. The car was going really fast and had just drifted over to the other side of the road. A truck came around a blind curve then and there was no way it could stop in time. It was head-on. Your daughter and son-in-law never had a chance. If it's any comfort, it was over right away." Bill said. Ordinarily, he would never have been so direct, or told a next-of-kin that much; however, Oscar was his friend and knew him well enough that he felt he had to know everything. Bill took a second to reflect that it was a wise decision for the Los Alamos police to have contacted him and ask him to do the notification. When they'd called that morning, they were unaware he was friends with Oscar; however, they had reasoned it would be better for him to be told face-to-face rather than over the phone. (As he'd carried out this sad duty many times, Bill knew it was far better that someone was actually there.) He took another breath.

"There's more." Oscar noted, not asking a question.

"Yes, there is, I'm afraid. Samantha had been behind the wheel –it looks like John, your son-in-law, had a broken arm from some accident at his work and wasn't able to drive. The medical examiner did a blood test…Oscar, she'd been drinking. She was three times over the legal limit." Bill finished as Oscar put his hand over his forehead and rubbed his eyes and forehead, as if he was trying to get his mind working for what he had to do next.

"I have some other news too though…Good news." Bill went on as Oscar looked up at him from his chair. "Your grandson…"

"Grandson…?" Oscar started as his eyes went to the floor above the basement root cellar, instinctively thinking of Owen –who was now deep into his daytime sleep cycle with Abby. After a second, he realized that there was no way Bill would have had any cause to mention Owen.

"Yes…Your grandson –Johnny, his name is, according to the Los Alamos Police- was in the car as well, but he's alright."

"Huh?" Oscar stammered as his overstressed brain tried to work this new information in.

"Your daughter had a baby boy back in March. He's three months old and was apparently restrained in his car seat. The police and firemen who arrived at the scene found him in the back seat, crying away."

"And he's alright…?"

"Yeah" Bill said with a smile, as he was able to at least bring one piece of good news to his friend. "He has a few minor scratches and cuts from some broken glass, but nothing else. They checked him out at the hospital there and he's fine. Social services has him in their care, pending an arrival of next-of-kin…I'm presuming that'll be you?"

"Yes...That'll be me."

"Oscar, there's no words I can use to tell you how sorry I am. I don't think I ever met her…" Bill said. He recalled she hadn't been present at the funeral after Oscar had become a widower.

"No…You didn't. She stopped talking to me about a year after you moved here. I hadn't spoken to her for almost nine years now…Will that make a difference in my being able to take in Johnny?" Oscar said as he tried to process the dual facts that he had a new grandson now and that he would be coming to live with him.

"Mind if I asked why she stopped talking to you?"

"I supported Lyle's decision on what to do with his life." Oscar said simply, as Bill had met Lyle a few times and knew about his lifestyle in San Francisco. In Bill's opinion Lyle (a respected, highly accomplished lawyer and decorated veteran of the Vietnam War) was a stand-up guy and if that was how he wanted to live his life, it was a free country

"Well, if that's the only reason, then there's no problem."

"I, ah, am very sorry to be rude here, Bill, but I have to make some calls…." Oscar said.

"I understand." Bill said, as he began to walk to the door.

"You said that Johnny is in the custody of social services down in Los Alamos?"

"Yes...Until you arrive."

"Can you please let them know I'll be there either very late tomorrow night or early Wednesday morning?"

"I'll take care of that."

"Can you also tell the police there, I'm planning on having Samantha and John brought up here for burial?"

"Consider it done. I'll see to it that everything will be set for when you get there. Are you going to drive down?"

"Yes…I'm going to leave tomorrow, really early."

"Do you, ah, need some company? That's a long drive and I just thought you shouldn't be alone. I can take a few days off and…" Bill started to say before Oscar shook his head in the negative.

"No…No thanks, but I really do appreciate the offer. I think I'd like to be alone for that." Oscar said, not informing Bill of the fact that he knew he would in fact have some company for the trip…between sunset and sunrise, at least.

Bill Gillespie nodded in understanding as he offered his condolences again before departing. As he watched the Cold Creek police car reached the end of the driveway and turned back onto the road towards town, Oscar let out a great sigh. He forced himself to think about what he needed to do. He had –as he'd told Bill- some phone calls to make. He had to call Lyle in San Francisco. He had to call Foreman's Funeral Parlour –which was temporarily operating out of an old store in town until they could finish rebuilding the funeral home- and make arrangements. However, what he was dreading the most was something that he had to do in person. He looked at his watch and then at the western sky where the sun shone brightly. When the sun set, he had to tell Owen that his parents were dead.

* * *

Being four days shy of the summer solstice, the sun set very late in the day and it was a little longer until enough light had left the sky, ushering in the hours of darkness and heralding that the time of the vampire had come again. For Oscar, sitting at the kitchen table, desultorily munching on a sandwich, the late sunset was both a blessing and a curse, as part of him wanted to put off what he had to do, while another part of him knew that it had to be done, so it was best to get it over with. Soon enough though, Oscar heard, through the open window, the sound of the root cellar door shutting and his grandchildren's voices as they walked along the side of the house to the kitchen door. The door creaked open as Owen and Abby entered the house, discussing what work would take priority tonight.

"I think we have to put some new wire up on the east perimeter fence and…Hi Grandpa." Owen said as they saw Oscar sitting at the table. That in itself was odd. Usually at this time of night, Oscar would be in the living room, watching some television.

"Is anything wrong?" Abby asked. There was something about Oscar's demeanour that told her that something bad had happened.

"Yes…" Oscar sighed as he stood up. "Bill Gillespie was here this afternoon. He got a call earlier today from the police down in Los Alamos. Owen, I have some very bad news for you…"

* * *

Abby pushed open the door to Oscar's bedroom and stepped in. Turning on the light, she looked around. She rarely came in here –usually, it was only to bring up some laundry. But now, she wanted to leave Owen and Oscar alone and thought that packing a bag for her grandfather would be the most helpful thing she could do now.

She looked around the master bedroom and smiled as she noted that it had an atmosphere that matched its occupant –warm and inviting. On the walls and dressers were numerous pictures. One was a picture of Oscar and Grandma Elina's wedding, taken in 1933. (She noted how easy it was to see how Owen resembled Oscar when the latter was young.) Another was of Oscar receiving the Distinguished Service Cross in August of 1944. Another –that was now very poignant- was of Oscar, Elina, Lyle and Samantha in a family portrait. A final one that made her smile a little, despite the circumstances was a Polaroid of her and Owen, sitting together on the couch; that had been taken at Easter this year.

Abby went to the closet and took out a small suitcase. She set it on the bed, and then set about packing for the few days that Oscar expected to be away. She allowed her supernaturally acute hearing to listen to the conversation taking place downstairs. Owen and Oscar were talking quietly…calmly. Both were very much in control. It was eerie how calm they both were, having a quiet and controlled conversation, not a word wasted. Owen hadn't even broken down and cried –as Abby had thought would be natural- when Oscar told him.

Owen, she knew, was following his grandfather's example. Oscar was staying in control, so Owen was staying in control. Abby sighed. She had, since joining Owen's family the previous year, noted that Oscar had a tendency to remain very calm and collected in almost all circumstances. (His flash of anger towards Jebediah was a major thing, she felt.) It was like he felt he had to set an example for everyone, so he couldn't give in to anger or grief. (Put simply, he felt that as a grown man, he wasn't allowed to cry.) Owen, she knew, practically idolized his grandfather and thus felt that he had to be like him. So, he had not allowed himself to shed any tears.

Abby knew full well that everyone handled grief in a different manner. However, in her opinion, the way Owen and Oscar were handling it wasn't the healthiest way. As far as Abby was concerned, Oscar was about the most wonderful human being on the planet and was second only to Owen in terms of how much she loved someone. But, she honestly felt that his way of dealing with grief was simply unhealthy.

As for Owen, Abby could only imagine what was going through his mind. The simple fact of the vampire life meant that you saw time pass you by, while people bound to the mortal realm eventually died. She suspected that truth hadn't hit home to Owen before now. And even if it had, the deaths of his parents was something so terribly abrupt –them both being taken at an age when they should have had decades before them still- that the blow was doubly strong.

Abby had really never had a chance to mourn for any member of her own family. Being forced to flee Marshall Hall and her being forced to adjust to her undead existence had precluded her from having the luxury of doing so. In fact, she had no idea how or when her parents or siblings had died. At some point, after years and decades, she had intellectually realized they would have to all be dead now. But, beyond that, she did not know…

As Abby went about packing her grandfather's suitcase, she reflected on the irony. Owen had never in his life lost someone very close to him. (The family estrangement at the time meant his grandmother's death had not impacted him.) Now, he had seen death take both of his parents after he himself had crossed over into the ranks of the undead and been put forever beyond the mortal coil.

* * *

Much later that night, Abby walked around the flatbed of Oscar's truck. Her trunk was firmly secured to the back and even had a waterproof tarp to be put over it in case of bad weather. Before dawn, she and Owen would get into the trunk for the daytime sleep cycle. (Abby was grateful that the vampire's natural instinct for sleep would mean Owen would go right to sleep.) Shortly after, Oscar would take to the road. He planned that –barring any problems arising- they would get into Los Alamos late the next evening. She cast her senses up to Oscar's window. Thankfully, he was sleeping soundly, having taken a pill before going to bed so that he'd be rested for the long drive ahead of him.

Abby looked further up and saw Owen…he was sitting on the peaked gables of the roof, looking up at the stars. In an instant, she'd flown up to the roof herself and was walking up the steep incline in her bare feet as if it were completely flat. She reached Owen and sat down next to him. He looked at her and his lips tugged upwards ever so subtly in a smile as she cuddled in against him.

"How're you doing?" She asked him. Abby knew how foolish the statement sounded, but she couldn't think of anything else to say just then.

"I'm…" He started to say something then stopped. He began again "I will be alright I know…I just don't feel alright now." Owen said, grateful that he had Abby in his life.

"Yeah" She said simply as she gave him a kiss on the cheek and held one of Owen's hands while she rubbed his shoulders with her other hand. She was reminded just then of their first meetings in the courtyard of Los Alamos. Back then, she'd realized that Owen seemed to greatly have a need for someone to open up to. Now, she wished Owen would open up some and release some of the pain inside of him. However, she knew she could not rush or force it. She would simply wait and be there for when Owen finally allowed himself to open up.

It was ironic, Abby thought, that she was reminded just then of their first meeting in Los Alamos. Since, when they arose the following evening, they would indeed be back in Los Alamos, New Mexico.


	3. Chapter 3

_Greetings, dear readers. I hope everyone has had a good Easter._

_Well, here is my next installment in Owen and Abby's ongoing story._

_I apologize if this story is both not as dramatic or romantic as previous ones. I didn't plan it that way, but it's just how the nature of the plot turned out. This is them dealing with a family tragedy and is about how they get through it together._

_FYI, Econo-Travel was the forerunner of Econo Lodge. The name wasn't changed to its present incarnation until 1989, in case anyone was wondering if I made up the name of the motel Grandpa Oscar stays at._

_Also, I do hope that the relative shortness of the chapters aren't putting anyone off who is used to my longer style. I just found that writing shorter chapters made it easier to write and get a chapter posted._

_I won't repeat my usual plea for reviews...Oh wait, I just did. LOL_

_And awayyyy we go. :-)_

* * *

Owen opened his eyes. As always, since his induction into the ranks of the undead, the world around him came into sharp focus as soon as he awoke. He took in his surroundings. He was in the trunk, curled up, with Abby lying interconnected with him in the confined space. He looked at her, and saw her blue eyes were also open.

"Hey" She said softly, after giving him a quick kiss.

"Hey" He replied.

"It's dark out?" Abby asked. She figured it had to be, as the dead sleep of the vampire generally only ended with the instinctive knowledge that the sun was now gone again.

Owen twisted his arm in the small area and looked at his wristwatch. It confirmed that it was past time for last of day's light to have fled the sky. "Yeah, it's dark." He said simply.

Abby sighed to herself. Owen was holding it together all too well, she thought.

"I guess we're here. I don't feel like we're moving." Abby said.

"Yeah" Owen replied. "I wonder where we are."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I wonder if we're close to where I lived before."

"There's only one way to find out."

"Yeah…You're right." Owen said as he undid the internal lock and pushed the trunk's lid up a crack. He looked through the opening and saw that they appeared to be in the parking lot of a motel. Owen allowed his enhanced senses to cast about. He couldn't hear or smell any strangers close by. It was safe for him and Abby to get out without anyone seeing them. He pushed the lid all the way up and stood in the trunk, giving Abby his hand to pull herself up. (She didn't need it, but Owen liked doing small, chivalrous things like that for her.)

In a blur of speed, Abby was out of the trunk and standing beside Oscar's parked pick-up truck. In a matching burst of vampire speed, Owen had shut the trunk's lid again and was standing beside Abby on the gravel. He reached into the flatbed and grabbed his sneakers that he'd left there before dawn to try and preserve space. (The trunk was definitely a tight fit. The only things that made it feasible for them was the fact that he and Abby went instantly to sleep as the sun rose and that they didn't move when they slept.) Abby, always, was in her bare feet.

"Where's Grandpa?" Abby asked, looking at the line of motel rooms that faced out onto the parking lot. Owen stood up from lacing his sneakers and turned his head slowly. He stopped and pointed to a door almost directly in line with where the truck was parked.

"There. I can pick up his scent. He's in that room." Owen said with assurance.

"Bravo" Abby commented with a small smile at her mate. She had known full well which room Oscar was in, but she wanted to see how Owen's ability to perceive things with his new senses was progressing. She was impressed with the progress he was making. He had begun to let go of the limitations he had once thought would constrain him and was finding that his new abilities were exceeding anything he had thought they could be.

The two vampires walked up to the heavy motel door and knocked. Within a few seconds, they heard the lock being undone and the door opened to reveal Oscar.

"Hi there" He said in a tired voice. "I was waiting for you two to get up, before I went to get something to eat."

"How long ago did we get here?" Owen asked.

"About forty-five minutes. I made good time all the way down. I had time to take a shower before you knocked." Oscar said stepping back from the door to allow his grandchildren access. Owen and Abby just stood there though, looking at him expectantly. He caught their look.

"What's…? Oh, sorry…I honestly forgot." Oscar said with embarrassment. "Owen, Abby…You can both come in." He'd become so used to them entering the ranch house freely, as they'd both long been invited and it was their home, combined with his fatigue from over fifteen hours of driving, that he'd forgotten about the need to have them be invited before they could cross the threshold into his room.

The two vampires stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind them.

Abby took in the room. It wasn't anything special. It was a cheap –but apparently very clean- motel room. She'd stayed in far more than her share of them during her nomadic years. She looked over into the bathroom and saw that there was a bathtub, rather than a shower stall, so she and Owen could sleep in there the following morning rather than the trunk.

"Where do we go from here?" Owen asked. His face was alarmingly impassive and his voice was tight. His grandfather sat down on one of the room's two chairs consulted a notepad.

"I made a few calls after I took a shower. Tomorrow, I'll go see Johnny and fill out the paperwork. I'll also…I'll also claim your parents." Oscar said; his efforts to stay in control evident in his voice. "They'll be sent home for the funeral. Then I'll go over to where your parents were living and I'll pack up what I can. The rest of their things will have to be shipped back home, or I guess I'll just find someone here to take them."

"That's tomorrow." Owen observed. "What can we do tonight?" He was obviously anxious to keep busy.

"There's not much we can do tonight. Everything is closed now."

"Maybe Abby and I could…We could go to their place and start packing stuff up."

Before Oscar could give his opinion on that, Abby spoke. "I don't think we can. It's a home. We can't enter it." She said simply, deliberately not mentioning that there was no longer anyone to invite them in. In truth, she wasn't sure if the rule for an invitation applied now that the people whose home it was were dead. Johnny was still alive, of course, but he couldn't issue an invitation. However, even if they could enter freely, Abby knew that two kids rummaging around in the middle of the night would attract attention. And, if anyone saw them and saw Owen…There was a very good chance he might be recognized. Not nearly enough time had passed for anyone to expect Owen to look differently. Despite the year of growth and filling out, Owen would still be instantly recognized as Samantha Lindquist's son, the missing boy from the pool massacre. And Abby knew that Owen being seen and recognized would be a sure way to make this situation even worse. (And even if that risk wasn't present, she wasn't sure if Owen packing up his parent's belongings was something that would improve his emotional state.)

Her eyes met Oscar's and a sort of communication passed between them. Her surrogate grandfather rubbed his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out some change.

"Owen, can you do me a favour? I'm dying of thirst from the drive. Can you head on over to the vending machine outside and get me a couple of cans of Coke?"

"Sure Grandpa." Owen said absently as he took the change and went out into the darkness. As soon as he left, Oscar gestured for Abby to come close to him. He whispered to her urgently.

"This was a mistake, I think. There's really nothing you two can do here. You can't do anything to help during the daytime and it would look too strange to have you around anyone at night."

"I was thinking the same thing." Abby whispered back. "We'll sleep in the bathtub today. Tomorrow evening, Owen and I will fly back home."

"What about the trunk? Can you make it back in one night?"

"We might. But even if we can't, there are ways to find shelter during the day. I know how to find places. You wouldn't have to worry about that."

"I'm sorry. I really should have thought of this yesterday."

"Don't be sorry. It's all happened so suddenly…" Abby's whisper was caught off by the sound of Owen returning. He pushed the room door open and entered, carrying two red cans of Coca-Cola in one hand and was carrying the trunk in the other.

"Thanks" Oscar said as he took one can and opened it. He glanced down at Abby, who took the hint. She looked over at Owen who was putting the trunk against the wall where it would be out of the way.

"Owen, Grandpa and I were thinking…" Abby started to say, before Owen interjected.

"I heard. You think we should go home tomorrow night."

"Yes. Do you mind that?" Abby asked as Owen sighed wearily.

"I guess not. I wanted…I guess I wanted to see where they were living. What it was like for them. But, you're right. We couldn't enter, so there's not much we could do to help. I guess we could do more at home, by getting things ready there." Owen said quietly. His restrained voice reminded Abby of how he sounded the night they first met.

"I'm sorry Owen. I should've thought of this before." Oscar said. "I do think it would be more of a help if you went back and got stuff ready at home."

"Ok" Owen sighed again. "What're you going to do now?"

"I'm going to go over to the restaurant and get dinner. Then I need to get some sleep. It was a really long drive. Do you two want to use the bathtub in the morning to sleep in? I'll be heading out then to start the arrangements here."

"Yes" Abby replied. "There's no window in the bathroom. It'll be good and dark with the door closed."

"That's fine. Do you two want to watch the television or something while I go to dinner?" Oscar asked. Before Abby could speak up, Owen answered.

"Actually…I want to go look around. I...I'm not going to ever come back here. I need to do some things." He said with a soft intensity.

Oscar nodded in understanding. He knew from what Owen had told him of what his life was like here, that there were many wounds that still ached. He wondered if Owen coming along would help or set back those wounds healing. Owen's grandfather silently wondered again at his daughter's mindset in those times. Had she not realized just how much pain her son was in? Had she been so ensnared by her own demons that she didn't realize how badly neglected Owen had been? More than once since Owen had re-entered his life, Oscar had thought that if he'd known how bad things were in Los Alamos, he might have tried to obtain custody of his grandson. Of course, he realized he likely would have had little chance of prevailing legally. (One of his platoon mates from the war was now a lawyer specializing in family law. During their trip to Normandy, Oscar had asked the man –hypothetically- about such a scenario. His friend had told him that if he had, the odds of him winning would not have been good.) And of course, Oscar realized, if he had somehow gotten Owen away from Los Alamos then, he would have not met Abby. Oscar had long realized that no matter what bad things had happened to Owen during those years of separation, his meeting Abby was –to Owen- what made it all up to him. It was useless, really, to go crazy pondering 'what ifs' and speculating on other fates. (Oscar realized if anyone had just cause to do so, it was Abby; but she'd seemingly accepted the reality of her life. Of course, having someone to share time with likely helped her do so now.) This was the hand they'd all been dealt. The only thing to do was play it out as best they could.

"Ok son…You and Abby go do that. I'll go to dinner. They gave me a spare key so you two take it, in case I'm in bed when you get back."

"Thanks Grandpa. We'll be back later." Owen said, as he and Abby exited the room into the darkened parking lot. The two vampires ducked into the shadows behind the building, and seconds later a pair of shadowy figures lifted off into the night sky of Los Alamos.

Oscar was locking the door to his room as he caught a glimpse of them taking off. In all honesty, some of the things the two of them were capable of was still a hard concept for him to grasp. He hoped Owen was handling all of this as best he could. He suspected his grandson was taking after him in being stoic in the face of tragedy. Oscar rather wished that wasn't so. He was the product of a time when people –men especially- were expected to stay in control. Owen was not. At least, he thought. Owen had Abby with him. He knew that it would be Abby's presence that would see his grandson through this. Oscar checked the lock on the door, and began to walk over to the diner.

* * *

In another part of Los Alamos, in an upscale hotel room, a dark haired man in his early forties spoke into the telephone.

"Yes, the Econo-Travel out by the highway coming into town. I'll find it." The man said as he wrote the name and address on a scratch pad. "Thank you…I'll be in touch." The man hung up the phone and stood up. He pulled on a leather jacket and exited his room. As he walked to the elevator, he planned on asking the concierge for the directions that would take him to the motel where Oscar Alfredson was staying at. He figured that his appearance would be a surprise, the man thought as the elevator doors opened and he stepped in.


	4. Chapter 4

_Greetings dear readers. I do apologize for the delay since the last chapter. However, I'm afraid I've been plagued by a million and one nagging details in real life that have eaten into my writing time. _

_Rest assured, I am not giving up on this fic. Indeed, I have other Owen/Abby fics in mind. However, I think that just the nature of this story -essentially tying up an end of Owen's old life- just doesn't inspire me to come up with stuff the way my other plotlines do. But, I will get this story completed. Then, I'll move onto some more juicy stories for our vampire protagonists. _

_I found this chapter rather hard to get out. It wasn't until the last segment there that things really started to flow. I was tempted to continue, but I thought that it was a rather natural ending where I stopped._

_Oh, were any of you able to guess the identity of the dark-haired man in the leather jacket who made an appearance at the end of the last chapter? If you did, my heartiest congratulations. _

_Nonetheless, I do hope everyone enjoys it. I still love reviews though. :-)_

_And awayyyy we go. :-D_

* * *

Oscar tiredly walked to the diner that adjoined the motel. He was feeling his age, he thought to himself. The long drive down from Montana had drained him more than he had thought it would. He felt very stiff from the enforced idleness behind the wheel of his pick-up truck, despite the long, hot shower he'd taken upon arrival.

His mind was also full of the many tasks and challenges that lay ahead of him. He would have to see about having his daughter and son-in-law's bodies sent to Montana for burial in the family plot at the local cemetery. He had to clear out their home the best he could in the time available. And he had to arrange a time to formally take charge of his youngest grandchild. That thought alone caused him concern. He'd realized on the trip down that he was now –at his age- going to have to raise a child again. When Owen and Abby had come to live with him the previous winter, the sheer surprise at the circumstances –and the peculiar situation Abby's condition brought to the table- had overruled any concerns there. As well, after settling in Owen had proven to be quite independent. He and Abby tended to look after themselves and had even begun to ease much of the burden of running the ranch off of his shoulders. But now, he would essentially be starting all over again with raising a child. And, of course, there was the fact that he'd just lost his daughter. He was coping with that fact for two reasons. The first was his natural calm stoicism in the face of adversity. His own father and grandfather had been like that, and he took after them. The second reason was the simple fact that Samantha had been out of his life for so long and so completely that he'd long ago mourned her loss. It was when she had refused to return to Montana for her mother's funeral that he'd realized that he had truly lost her and had actually done his mourning then. All these things though, he knew, would still be there for him to cope with tomorrow. For right now though, he just wanted a good, hot dinner.

As he was about to open the door to the diner he suddenly noticed something. The familiar bulge of his wallet was missing from his back pocket. Oscar silently cursed to himself as he recalled that he'd set it on the bedside table and had forgotten to pick it up again. The rancher turned around trotted back to his room. Opening the door, he saw his wallet where he thought it would be. Pocketing it, he left his room again…resetting the lock on the door but neglecting to pull it totally shut.

* * *

Owen and Abby flitted silently through the dark Los Alamos skies. Owen looked down upon his former home. When he'd lived here he would have never in a million years have thought that one day he'd be able to fly over it and look down on it like he was. Of course, of all the possible futures he imagined for himself then –most of which, he conceded, involved elaborate revenge schemes upon his sadistic tormentors- becoming a vampire was not one of them. Not that he was upset at the hand that fate had dealt to him. He was strong now. He could do amazing things –like fly. And best of all, he could now spend forever with Abby. For a few seconds, Owen was actually able to forget about the reasons why they'd returned to this place he'd hated so deeply. He glanced over at Abby as the night's breeze blew her long blonde hair about. He wondered at her thoughts on returning here.

Abby then changed direction slightly and Owen followed. Soon enough they came upon a large, white building and Abby guided the two of them to set down in an empty parking lot.

"Where are we?" Owen asked as he tried to orient himself, looking around to see if he recognized any of the landmarks.

"Hospital" Abby replied. "We need to feed; you especially."

"I'm not that hungry." Owen said.

"Trust me. If we're going to fly home tomorrow night we'll both need to feed." Abby said seriously.

"If you say so." Owen replied. Abby noted, with concern, how flat his voice seemed. In the month since his turning, being able to fly usually had practically ebullient with excitement. He turned towards the building. "So, how do we do this?" Abby had, in the last year, become quite adept at blood bank heists. He was still learning the art of it though.

"What do we do?" Owen asked her as she looked the building over.

"Follow me." Abby said simply and vanished in a blur of speed. Owen followed without a word. She took flight then and led them up to the roof. As Owen set his feet upon the tarpaper roof he gave her an inquisitive look as if to ask where they were to go now.

Abby gave him a half-smile and walked calmly over to the stairwell door.

"They don't lock it?" Owen asked as his mate pulled it open.

"They probably figure that nobody can get up here any other way but the stairs." Abby replied as she and Owen entered the stairwell. She'd perfected this technique at hospitals all over the Rocky Mountains in the last year. It was very rare for a hospital to not have stairwell access to the roof. Those that didn't, she would sneak in through the loading dock areas. Her speed –and ability to attach herself to the ceiling if need be- ensured that nobody ever saw her. Owen had only done this once or twice since his turning in May and he was still reliant on her to get them in and out undetected.

The two vampires silently crept down the flights of stairs, luckily not encountering anyone. Soon enough they reached the basement where –as a rule, Owen had found out- hospitals usually placed their blood banks.

They crept through the still corridors, senses attuned for the approach of any hospital staffers. However, although they both could hear voices of hospital workers in a few laboratories and rooms, they were few and far between (apparently most of the labs and offices down here operated during the daytime only, with only a few that were staffed during the overnight shift) and none of them seemed to detect their presence. The hospital PA was fairly quiet as well, only occasionally putting out a routine call. Owen figured that as it was a Tuesday night, the hospital wasn't jumping with activity like it might be on a weekend night when perhaps more people were brought into the emergency room.

Soon, they entered the main blood bank. Abby opened a fridge to reveal scores of intravenous bags filled with blood. Owen heard himself give a low growl and actually felt himself salivate a little at the sight of so much blood. It still amazed him. Barely a month ago, such a sight would've aroused his curiosity or interest, but little more. But now…It was like if he was looking at a prime cut of steak back when he was human. He wanted very badly to feed just then. He realized that Abby was correct –as she generally was about such things. He was still getting a grip on his new abilities and urges, and thus should feed more often to ensure he was always sated.

Abby efficiently surveyed the fridge's items. She swiftly and silently removed bags of type "O", as that was the most prevalent type –ensuring that there was a more than adequate supply left behind- as well trying to take bags that were closing in on their "use before" date, as she figured that they would be discarded soon anyway. (As important as feeding was. Abby didn't want to deprive the hospital of the more rare blood types or take quantities that would leave them wanting, if she could possibly avoid it.)

The two vampires had shortly gathered up enough blood bags both for that night and to have before their flight home the following night. (Abby had packed a cooler bag in the pick-up truck for that very purpose. She planned to get some ice from the motel vending machine and store the bags so she and Owen could feed before leaving at dusk the next day.)

Owen and Abby then retraced their steps to the roof and took to the sky. They landed in a park close to the hospital. There, they retreated into the shadows of the trees as they sat down to have their dinner.

Abby wrenched the valve of a blood bag off easily and drank off a quarter of the contents. Despite the unappetizing cold temperature of the blood, a placid smile came over her as she savoured the taste and the filling sensation. The blonde vampire's eyes then settled on the hospital, just visible down the road, and her face fell a little as she recalled the previous time she'd been there. Her mate noticed.

"What's wrong?" Owen asked as he lowered his own blood bag from his mouth and used his tongue to hungrily lick off any blood from his lips and around his mouth.

"The hospital here…It's where Thomas died." Abby said quietly as she remembered her long-time companion and guardian's unhappy life and even more unpleasant death.

Owen said nothing, as she had long ago told him Thomas' ultimate fate.

"When we decided to come here –to Los Alamos- I had a feeling…It was almost like some sort of intuition, I guess…That the move here wasn't going to be like all the others. I didn't tell Thomas that though. I figured he would just get upset. He got upset a lot towards the end; I can't say I blame him, now." Abby mused as she tried to imagine what Thomas' mental and emotional state would've been after decades of a nomadic life and almost thirty years of gathering blood for her. The mental picture she was able to conjure up was not a pleasant one.

"How did you think it would be different?" Owen asked.

"I don't know. I just did. Most of the time, when we moved, we would stay in town for months…Sometimes a year, or more, if we could. We would move when the papers began to really start to mention people going missing…and then turning up dead and drained of blood. Occasionally, if the people we found were, well, not the types who'd be missed, we could stay longer. We would stay until we figured people might start to notice I don't get any older." Abby sighed as she recalled her old way of living. "But Los Alamos, it just felt different from the minute we arrived."

"In what way?"

"I don't know. I just did. I know, from the start, I did things that I never did before."

"Like what?"

"Talking to you in the courtyard that night when you were stabbing the tree. I never actually let myself be seen much or talked to anyone. There was no point. I couldn't let anyone get close enough that they'd start to wonder about me. And if I ever did, I knew I'd have to leave sooner or later."

"That's why you said we couldn't be friends then?"

"Yes."

"What made you that different for you?"

"I don't know. That night I just felt like I wanted to get out of the apartment. Maybe I was just getting tired of the same routine." Abby said with a slight shrug to her shoulders. "All I know is that something about you made me feel connected to you."

"Maybe it's because you were alone and you saw that I was alone too." Owen replied as he studied his the nearly empty IV bottle that had contained his dinner. "I thought that if you didn't have any friends either, maybe you'd want to be my friend after all."

"Maybe" Abby sighed as she looked back towards the building where Thomas had spent his last hours. "I just wish I'd known then what I know now. I could've spared Thomas from all of that. I watched him fall from the window, all the way down to the ground. Drinking from him and letting him fall…That was about the only kind thing I was able to do for him anymore at that point. All of those years and that was all I could do for him at the end." Abby sighed, the guilt evident in her voice. "He knew that you and I were getting closer, you know. He felt threatened. He felt jealous. I think he sensed that I was starting to feel for you what he felt for me…but I didn't feel back for him."

"Had he ever wanted…to be turned?"

"He never asked me outright about it."

"What would you have done if he had?"

"I…I don't know. I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him; I knew that much. I couldn't' stand the thought of turning him and then him spending forever trying to get me to feel something for him I just didn't. But, at the same time I just let him get older while he kept hoping I'd start to feel that for him." Abby sighed and shook her head. "I read once that insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Well, if that's true then Thomas was a living example of that. I guess, the only real thing I could've done to have spared him was to have left him years before. He could've lived a normal life."

"Do you think so?"

"He'd have forgotten about me in time."

"Is that why you left without me, that first time?"

"Yes." Abby said with a sad smile. "I saw what happened to Thomas. I wasn't going to repeat my mistake and force you to live that life. I thought I'd just leave. You'd forget about me and you would have had a happy, normal life."

"No…I'd have never been able to forget you." Owen said taking her hand in his. "I think it would have just gotten worse for me. I would've always been looking. I'd always be hoping that someday you'd come back to me. I think that would've been just as bad, in its own way, as what Thomas went through."

"I suppose." Abby said quietly as she savoured her mate's closeness. As much as she treasured the life she now had, she wished that she could've found some way to save Thomas from his fate. She wished futilely that he could've met someone years before who did love him back the way he always wanted her too. If that had happened, Abby would've simply left and allowed Thomas to live out a normal and happy life.

"You came to me then, didn't you? That night you came to my room and got into my bed. It was the night Thomas died, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't want to be alone then. It hit me that you were the only other person in the world who even knew what my name is. You were all I had left. I guess I just wanted to feel you close to me then."

Owen smiled to himself as he recalled how wonderful it had been to find Abby had someone snuck into his room and crawled into his bed…Even if, in hindsight, he really should've been more curious as to how she was able to in so easily.

"I'm glad you did." Owen said as he slid close to her, inhaling and enjoying the smell of the trees and the night, subtly mixed in with the fragrant smell of Abby's hair that came from the shampoo she used. It had been soon after that night –when he'd been telling Abby about how he'd hit Kenny with the pole and been rewarded by a kiss to the cheek- that he'd learned the truth about her. An old question rose to his mind.

"Abby, that night you came to my room…"

"Yeah?"

"What if I'd turned around?"

"Huh?"

"You told me not to turn around when you came in through the window. Why not? I could hear that was how you got in."

Abby turned and looked at him. "I had Thomas' blood on me. I didn't want you to see that."

Owen met her look. "What if I had?"

"I don't know. What would you have said?"

"I don't know. What if I'd asked you straight out what was going on?"

"I think…That I'd have told you the truth."

"For real?"

"Yeah, for real. I was already thinking that sooner or later I would."

"Had you ever told anyone the truth before?"

"Unless they were…like Thomas…never."

"Why would I have been different?"

"I just felt like I wanted nothing between us. If that meant you knowing the truth about me, then I would tell you the truth." Abby said softly. "How would you have taken it?"

"I don't know. I think I'd have figured you were joking, or something. That's what I thought when you told me you'd flown up to my window." Owen said as he realized that if he hadn't seen Abby's vampire nature revealed to himself in the basement room he might have taken quite a bit of convincing for him to realize she was telling the truth. Of course, he thought, it really was academic now. He found out. He –eventually –accepted it. He was a vampire now as well. There wasn't much more to dwell on.

Owen caught himself. He realized just then, that for a few minutes, he'd allowed himself to forget why they'd returned to Los Alamos in the first place. He stole a glimpse of Abby sitting in the shadows beside him. Her long blonde hair was messy from the combination of being crammed in the trunk all day followed by their flight. Her clothes –a purple blouse and rather short skirt- were wrinkled for the same reason. He knew that she'd consider herself to be looking less than her best. (Since settling into a comparatively normal life in Montana, Abby had allowed herself to become quite fastidious about being clean and looking neat.) Yet to him, she looked beautiful. He knew that she was the reason he was handling this loss so well. He leaned over and kissed her.

"What was that for?" Abby inquired when the kiss broke.

"Just because." Owen said simply. Then, "You're warm."

"What?"

"I've noticed since I was turned, you feel warm now, when I touch you and when I kiss you. Before, your skin and everything always felt cool to me."

Abby smiled wryly at his words. "Well, I never told you, but before your skin always felt kind of hot. Now it's just warm. I'm pretty sure it's because before you had blood moving through your body normally. You were…alive. So my body would've felt cold in comparison."

"It's so weird to say that. We're not alive."

"It's weird but it's true. We're not alive…Not by normal standards at least. We're, well, the living dead; the undead. That's what vampires are." Abby said. "Our bodies are the same now. That's why there isn't a temperature difference anymore."

Owen rose to his feet and chivalrously offered his hand to Abby as she stood.

"Do you think we can make it back home tomorrow night without stopping?" Owen asked. He was well aware that they were two days away from the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere –which meant the shortest night in correlation.

"I'm not sure. If it was winter, I'm pretty sure we could manage it no problem. But with the nights so short, I can't be certain."

"What would we do if we can't?"

"Oh, that's not a big problem. We could find plenty of safe places during the day."

"Abandoned buildings or something?"

"Yes, in an emergency. But there's a simpler way and one with far less chance of someone discovering us by accident."

"What's that?"

"It's easy. We just land somewhere in the countryside and dig a hole. We can dig one very fast and then just bury ourselves under the loose earth. Once we're under a few feet of dirt, the sun can't get to us and nobody would find us unless they took the trouble to dig all that way down themselves –and that's if anyone even chances across where we are, which is really unlikely to begin with."

"You've done that before?"

"Tons of times. There's nothing to it. The only downside is that once we dig ourselves out the next evening, we really can't let anyone see us."

"Why not?"

"We'd look like we'd been buried alive, more or less. It would be really hard to come up with any really decent excuse that didn't seem even weirder." Abby pointed out logically.

"Did you ever meet anyone who got really suspicious?"

"No. Once, I had to go into a town once I got up. There was a river going through the middle of it. Before I let anyone see me, I went and jumped in. That got a lot of dirt off and I just told anyone who saw me after that, that I'd been playing by the riverbank and fallen in. Nobody questioned me, and a few people even offered to give me a lift to my home so I could change." Abby related.

Owen gathered up the remaining bags of blood and put them in a plastic bag he'd been carrying in his pocket. He figured they would be enough to fill them up before they left for home the next night.

He and Abby walked through the park until they found a nicely secluded spot. They both cast about with their enhanced senses, finding nobody close enough to see them take off.

"Is there anywhere you want to go?" Abby asked.

"Yeah. I want…I want to go back to the old complex. I need to see it one last time."

"Ok. We'll do that. But, let's go back to the motel first to put these into the cooler so they'll keep until tomorrow." Abby said as she pointed to the bag full of blood containers

"I forgot about that." Owen admitted. He wrapped the bag tightly in his hand. "Ready?" He asked his loved.

"Let's go." Abby replied as the two lifted into the sky of their mother night.

* * *

The dark blue, 1983 Oldsmobile Eighty-Eight sedan pulled into the Econo-Travel parking lot. The dark-haired man, in the leather jacket, looked about the parking lot, trying to locate his quarry. There, he thought. That has to be it. Parked in front of a room was a large, dusty pick-up truck with Montana license plates.

The man pulled his car into a neighbouring parking spot and shut off the engine. He got out of the car and stretched himself out. He was tired. He'd had a long day of travel. He shut his car door and walked up to the room. His steps were silent, the man realized. He'd picked up the habit of walking stealthily in Vietnam and it was a habit he'd never dropped.

He stopped in front of the door where the pick-up truck was parked. He figured this was the room corresponding to the parking spot. He knocked on the door, straining his ears to try and pick up any movement from inside.

The dark-haired man knocked again, this time with a little more force, as he pondered whether Oscar Alfredson might be in the shower. (As the lights in the room were on, he figured the man hadn't gone to bed.) As he knocked harder, the door swung open from the impact. The man was taken aback for an instant. He wasn't expecting this. He pushed the door open fully. Inside it looked like a typical motel room layout. There were two beds, a dresser, a television set and the door leading to the bathroom. A suitcase was laying open on a stand and strangely enough, there was a large old-fashioned steamer trunk sitting neatly against a wall. Just then, the man thought he heard a rustling from above, like something had passed above him in the night sky. He paid it no mind. Looking about to see if anyone was there, he stepped into the room.

* * *

Owen and Abby landed in the shadows behind the motel building and walked around to where the room doors were. Abby was still worried about Owen. He still appeared to be bottling everything up inside of him. Perhaps a visit to the old apartment complex where they had both lived would…well, Abby wasn't sure what she wanted there. She did think that if Owen would just let go, or something, she'd feel better. If he cried, if he vented anger about how unfair it was…any sort of reaction…it would be less unnerving than him holding it all in like he was. She was about to say something when Owen stopped dead in his tracks and pointed ahead.

"Look!" He said. Abby complied. The door to Oscar's room had been pushed open and someone was walking in. It was a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and was wearing a leather jacket. That was all she could tell from here. But what was he doing in their grandfather's room and –most importantly- where was their grandfather.

Before Abby could give voice to any of these concerns, a growl came from beside here. She looked and saw that Owen was running forward. His face had taken on the bestial appearance that it did when hungered and the blood lust came upon them…or when angered. Abby had no idea who this man was and what he was doing there. But she did know that things had taken a most serious turn and that she had to prevent something bad from happening as she broke into a run herself.

* * *

Oscar emerged from the diner and took a breath of the night air. He had to admit that the meal had been a pretty good one for such a simple place. Their daily special of meat loaf had been of good quality and a more than adequate portion and the special had included soup and a dessert. The good hot food, and the chance to unwind from the day's drive had done wonders for his emotional state. Stretching, the rancher walked back to his room, figuring that he'd watch a little television before going to sleep. He knew that the following day would be a busy one. He noticed then, that someone had parked next to his truck. It was an Oldsmobile Eighty-Eight, with an Alamo Rent-A-Car sticker on the bumper. Then, he noticed two things of infinitely greater importance. One, the door to his room was open, as light was spilling out into the courtyard. Two, Owen was charging forward into the room with a look on his face that caused his grandfather to involuntarily shiver. A very worried looking Abby was hot on his heels. Oscar broke into a sprint himself as he dashed towards the door to his room.

The dark haired man in the leather jacket looked about. It was clear that the room was empty. He wondered where the pick-up truck's driver was. Of course, he realized, he might be getting something to eat. He should have thought of that before. He was in the midst of deciding if he should await his quarry here, or try to make contact at the diner, that it happened. He cast a glance out the door –which was still open- when some…thing…burst into the room. It all happened so fast, he couldn't get a good look or even see what was happening. The figure was pale and its face looked like something demonic…but was oddly familiar. It crashed into him with a fury the man had not known since his days of high school football. The leather-clad man was slammed into the wall of the room with a teeth-rattling impact as the stranger grabbed him by front of his jacket. The figure was then lifting him clear off the floor, despite being shorter than him. In seconds, his feet were dangling off the floor. He grabbed frantically at the things hand, but found the grip was like an iron vise. Just then a girl appeared in the room. She was maybe twelve or thirteen, wearing a short skirt with a purple blouse and was in her bare feet. Her eyes went wide as she saw his face.

Panic has seized Owen. As soon as he saw his grandfather's room door open and this stranger milling about, he had lost control of himself. It was perhaps a combination of stress over his parents, combined with worry over not knowing what was going on. He knew that there was nothing he could do now about his parents. However, he was definitely not going to let anything happen to his grandfather. He charged ahead, into the room, mildly aware that his face had taken on a demonic look. He crashed into the main like a train and in seconds had the man pinned against the wall. That's when Abby's voice reached him, telling him to stop…

Abby was hot on Owen's heels as he charged into the room and hit the stranger with a bone rattling impact. She was worried too about the whereabouts of Oscar, but she was far more in control than Owen was. And the stranger…He was giving off a scent that seemed oddly familiar. She instantly connected it with their home on the ranch, more specifically Owen's old room upstairs where he'd slept before being turned. This man's scent lingered in that room. Then she looked at his face and her eyes went wide. She knew his face! She'd seen it before! Her mind sought to connect where. It was in Owen's old room again. She gasped as she placed his face. It was in a picture on the wall. She regarded the man now struggling to break free of Owen's grip. She mentally took nineteen years off of the man's age…imagined his face lined with fatigue…and imagined him in a U.S. Army uniform being photographed in Vietnam. She knew who this was.

"Owen, stop! Owen it's your uncle…" She yelled frantically but was cut off by a voice from behind.

"Lyle?!" Oscar's voice sounded behind her. All three occupants of the room turned to the sound of his voice. Oscar was standing in the doorway with wide eyes and a slack jaw as he took in the scene before him. "It's alright Owen. Put him down."

Owen looked from the man in his grasp to his grandfather and back again. He finally recognized his Uncle Lyle, who he hadn't seen in so many years he couldn't remember. He lowered his uncle as gently as he could to the floor and stepped back, holding up his hands to show that he wasn't going to try and hurt him.

"Uh, hi Uncle Lyle." Owen said sheepishly, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his overreaction. "Sorry about that."

Lyle Alfredson gasped as he was released, he was pleasantly surprised that his legs didn't buckle beneath him. He looked around. Of all the things he expected when he flew in from San Francisco that day, being physically attacked was the least of his expectation.

"Dad?!" He gasped, still amazed at the strength he'd witnessed. He himself had been athletic his whole life, and still kept in shape. But, he knew that he hadn't stood a chance against whoever that was. He looked again at the figure and got an even greater shock. It was his nephew Owen! His nephew Owen who was officially listed as being "missing presumed dead" for over a year now. His nephew Owen who had just manhandled him like a rag doll. "Dad, what the hell is going on here?"

"What're you doing here Lyle?"

"I flew in this afternoon. I thought you could use some support. I could help with the legalities if they try to tie you up with red tape when you take custody of Johnny." The San Francisco attorney replied. "At the very least, I thought you could use some moral support. I called Bill Gillespie and he told me where you were staying."

"Are Kim or Jessica with you? Is Stefon?" Oscar asked, referring to Lyle's teenage daughters and his longtime partner.

"No. I thought the girls would be better off staying in 'Frisco than dragging them out here and Stefon had business appointments he couldn't easily cancel. But never mind that! Dad…What the hell is going on here?!"

Oscar sighed. He decided that there was really no alternative but to tell his son the truth from start to finish. He looked at the door and gestured with his head.

"Abby, please shut the door." He waited until she had complied. Then he turned to his son who was seated on the edge of the bed looking at him, as well as Owen and Abby who were flanking their grandfather. Oscar sighed.

"Lyle, you'd better prepare yourself. This is a long story…" Oscar began.


End file.
